Descendants Series

by Melissa Wright

  Logan drew back first, probably all too aware of Brianna’s injuries, and she stared up at him, memorizing his face in that moment, wanting to have it for recall when the other images came, the horrible, blood-filled visions that burned into her consciousness. There were plenty of words to be said, but neither spoke them, because “if we die tomorrow” is never the best preface to confess your feelings.

  “So,” Brianna said, sighing deeply, “I suppose there’s work to be done.”

  Logan smiled at her, leaning down for one more kiss. The tip of his nose trailed over her cheek, sending shivers down her spine on its way. He stopped to press a kiss at the base of her jaw, and then brushed her ear with his lips, whispering, “First, you should eat.”

  His tone was way too suggestive for the comment, and she laughed, despite their ill-fated situation. “Food,” she said, drawing free to see his face.

  He shrugged, unabashed, and she smiled. Whatever she thought she’d seen behind Logan’s gaze was gone. He was nothing but open, in this with her one hundred percent, no reservations.

  She was hungry, once Logan had managed to dislodge the dread from the pit of her stomach, and hot food improved her mood considerably. But when nothing was left to distract her, it began to creep back in. She pushed her chair away from the table, tucking a strand of now-damp hair behind her ear. “I need to go to the library.” Her gaze met Logan’s. “And we’ll need to meet with Emily and Aern.”

  Logan nodded, recognizing the change in her tone, and led the way to her door. Deprived of reliable electronics, they’d been forced to send runners through the Council halls for any urgent message, and two of them waited outside for just such a task. Once Logan had given his message, Daniels approached, a quick grin for Brianna melting away as he reported the status on new communications devices and which parts of the property were temporarily unsecure. They’d had some time to work while she’d slept, but having to install not only replacement equipment and barriers, but stronger ones was taking a while.

  They walked through the corridor, passing a few Council men and women on their way. Brianna could see the change in them. It wasn’t all fear, which concerned her. There was an overall sense of reverence, an unwavering confidence in their leaders they’d not felt since before Morgan’s destruction of Council, and she couldn’t help but think they were so wrong.

  They were meeting with Emily and Aern to start, and she and Logan had arrived first to Aern’s office. It was Council’s main office suite, its center room one of the oldest, most authentic on the estate. A window highlighted the back wall, positioned directly behind a large mahogany desk, and inset shelving lined the wall on their left. A pair of small tables sat against the right wall, crystal decanter and glasses on one, metal sculpture on the second. Above the tables hung a pair of portraits, some ancient leaders of the Seven Lines, unfamiliar to Brianna. It was between those portraits where her stare rested, a massive inlaid circle that heralded the coming of the Seven Lines. She knew it to be that, and a proclamation, because it was written in the ancient language.

  She stepped forward, fingers tentatively hovering over the carved wood and glass. Lead and pewter bound the pieces, the entire surface a masterpiece of pressed materials, layered and curved into something that was almost art. Almost, because it punched her in the gut instead of inspiring any real emotion.

  Brianna’s voice was thick as she stared at the ancient symbols, the undeniable words that pointed to the fathers of the Seven, a list of names. “How long has this been here?”

  Aern answered, suddenly behind her in her state of sick astonishment. “It was brought here during the first ages,” he said. “It’s one of the only original artifacts left from the time of the prophecy.”

  Brianna didn’t turn to face them, only stared at the name set into the Seven Lines’ history. One name. One of the Seven.

  Eadmaer.

  So the dark-haired man’s claim had been right then, he’d been telling the truth. Eadmaer was the father of the dragon line, the dark-haired man his heir. Her skin prickled, and she ran a hand over her arms. Or he hadn’t, she decided, he’d simply gained the knowledge he’d need to give her a convincing story. He knew the first thing she’d do was check the facts.

  “What is it?” Emily said.

  Brianna turned to say “nothing”, but was caught by the sight of a healthy Emily, skin nearly unblemished aside from the few marks crossing her arms. Her gaze fell to Aern, the flesh of his arms pink and healing. She reached out, taking his hand, running a finger over his skin. “You were burned.”

  It wasn’t until that moment, the instant that everyone’s eyes were full on her, aware of something she’d completely missed, that she realized she and Emily hadn’t been hurt. They’d been cut, shallow slices caught during the fray, they’d been battered and bruised, dragged through the mud, but they’d not been burned. Aern had stood protecting Brianna in the center of a fire storm, but even within the shelter of his arms, she should have come away with at least some sign of it.

  She glanced at Logan beside her, remembering his own damage, the hits she’d seen him take, the fire and electrical pulses that had torn and blistered his skin. He’d healed now, as had Aern for the most part, but given the extent of their damage from the fire, the degree to which the other Council soldiers had suffered, Brianna would have been one large skin graft.

  Her eyes met Emily’s then, but her sister only shrugged. It was one more thing, another piece of the puzzle they didn’t have the answer to. “There’s something else,” Emily said, gaze cutting to Aern’s.

  Aern drew his hand free of Brianna’s, clasping his own in front of his chest. “Wesley saw something pass between you and this Callan.”

  Brianna’s stomach dropped, the guilt at her secret eating a hole in her. She had told them his name, told them he’d said he wanted to help, but that was all. Nothing about what he wanted, nothing about the bond.

  “I assured him you were unaware of it, as I’m certain you are,” Aern explained. Brianna’s concern shifted into confusion, but he went on. “It seems this ability has given Wesley a sense of where the power is, and when he saw you with the shadow, what he felt was that the man had somehow managed to draw power from you.”

  Brianna stepped back, faltered as if she’d been hit. Logan’s arm was immediately behind her, and she let him pull her into his side for support. They hadn’t expected her to take it so badly, not understanding the scope of her fear. To them, it was an explanation, a new clue in this mystery and answer to why she’d been so weak, so tired at every turn. Logan led her to one of the large padded chairs, sitting beside her as she processed Aern’s words.

  Aern knelt in front of Brianna, Emily shifting her weight from foot to foot where she stood behind him.

  “It’s his ability,” Brianna said. “Gods, why didn’t I see it before? He’s one of you, Aern, one of the ones who created your line.”

  The air went out of the room, though they couldn’t possibly grasp the magnitude of the problem.

  “He told me why he was helping us,” she admitted, hating herself for keeping the secret. “He said he was son of Acacius, descendant of Eadmaer and Desiderius.” She pointed to the shield decorating the Council wall. “Eadmaer, father of the dragon line.”

  Emily stopped pacing, her form as still as the air. “Acacius?”

  Brianna looked up, only then realizing that she’d drawn into herself, wrapped her arms around her middle and curled over them. She focused on her sister’s face, the starkness there.

  “Acacius?” Emily repeated.

  Brianna nodded, pulling herself upright. “You know it?” she whispered.

  “Yes,” Emily said levelly. “From our mother.”

  Brianna suddenly didn’t need Logan’s support; she was straight-backed, eyes locked with her sister’s. “No,” she breathed.

  The tone of Brianna’s voice, the absolute hatred and dread, had apparently given Aern an idea of what, precisely was w
rong with the picture. “So,” he said, “we will assume he wasn’t helping you to save the Seven Lines, the dragons his forefather created.”

  “No,” Brianna repeated, unable to voice the truth while looking at anyone but her sister. “He thinks he is the chosen one, the heir to the dragon’s name.”

  It took longer than it should have, for her audience to make the connection, but she felt more than heard their final comprehension. Logan was a statue behind her, only the memory of his hands, the heat of his body assuring her he was still there.

  “He wants to create a bond,” Emily said, “with you.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Shadows

  “Brianna burned through their connections,” Callan said. “None of them are left.” He said the words with all the confidence he could manage, even though a lie told to these shadows could cost him more than simply his life. He wasn’t used to having to resort to deceit, but he knew better than to attempt his gift on them. Not without the bond in place. Not without Brianna.

  “And the other girl, the prophet?” the shadow asked. “What of her power?”

  “She is under my control. There is no need to remove her until we have the chosen in place.”

  It was more than a simple untruth. He’d been working for months, since before she’d been found. It was no small thing to convince an army of shadows to go after the wrong girl. But the prophecy had been working with him, and the girl’s own mother had practically laid the path in place by marking her sister as a decoy. They only wanted the power Emily held, intended to destroy the prophet. Brianna had assumed they’d wanted the wrong sister, and they had, but only because he’d misled them. To keep her safe.

  “You assume too much, weak-blood. We will decide when the prophet is removed.” The shadow stood, the light of the hearth fire flickering behind him when the air shifted. When his power swelled around them. “The only thing keeping her alive is the secret. And if you don’t find it soon—”

  His words didn’t so much trail off as end. Both Callan and the shadow knew what the outcome would be if he failed.

  “Sir,” Callan said, inclining his head to go.

  “We are watching you, son of Acacius,” the shadow said in a low, even voice. Callan looked up from beneath his brow, his gaze connecting with the liquid heat in the other man’s eyes. It was more than a warning when an ancient spoke his disgraced father’s name, and there was no mistaking the menace in his tone. “Do not disappoint us again.”

  Again. The word ran through Callan’s mind as he backed from the room, lost at the implication. Had he let go of Brianna’s power too long, had some part of the shadow’s prophecy came to their seers? Or was there something else, some other misstep he’d not realized? The shadows who had attacked Council would have lived to tell, but he had wiped their memories after Emily’s work was done. Even if they found their way back, they’d be no danger to him. There was no way they would reveal his plan.

  The heavy wooden doors closed behind him, and he held his head high, glancing absently at the empty hall. There were no guards waiting—these shadows didn’t need protection. But they’d given him a new team, a set of men he was to prepare for the next assault. They would certainly try for Emily, thinking she was the prophet, but it would only take them a moment to realize the truth and change course, as the other shadows had, to understand they had been deceived, that Brianna was their true prize.

  He walked toward the main hall to gather his new charges, the ones he would lead straight to Brianna, and wondered how he was going to save her this time.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Brianna

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Emily said again. The last few minutes had been tense, once the initial shock of Brianna’s announcement wore thin and they’d sent a messenger to find Wesley. Emily pointed at Aern. “He doesn’t take anything from me. He has never drained or hurt me.” She leaned closer to her sister, who sat heavily on one of the padded chairs, eyes averted from Logan’s. “This guy is bad, Brianna. He isn’t trying to save you.”

  “You think I don’t know he’s bad?” Brianna shot back, running a hand over her arm as if her skin was crawling even now. “But he’s the only thing stopping them, Emily. He was the one who warned us they were coming.”

  Aern stepped forward, wincing at jumping into their quarrel, and said, “You aren’t disagreeing on that. No one thinks this guy is harmless.”

  Emily’s glare shot to Aern, daring him to argue that they shouldn’t find and destroy the shadow who was drawing from Brianna. Now.

  He held up a hand, shaking his head. “All Brianna is saying is that we have no idea what’s going on, no evidence of who’s running things or why this is happening. And right now, this shadow is the only thing keeping either of you alive.”

  Emily crossed her arms. It was all the argument she needed, but he would feel her anyway, the anger and nearly uncontrollable need to act. But there would be something else beneath it. Concern for Brianna, for the way she’d progressively gotten thinner, the dark circles under her eyes. And fear. Fear of the unknown, of what this man could do to them. Brianna could guess, because she was feeling it too.

  They were both scared, neither knowing what kind of monsters were behind this shadow, how they could be strong enough to drive someone so powerful to obey. But the fact that their mother had known the man’s father, the possibility that she’d somehow laid a plan in place, kept Brianna’s hope alive. Because maybe there was some chance, some small possibility of fighting the fate she’d seen for them.

  “We can’t know what’s going to happen,” Brianna said. “We might need him, to use him against the others.”

  “Oh, right,” Emily said. “I can burn him, Aern can sway him, and we can walk right into his lair to meet the bad guys.” Her tone was less scorn than disbelief. “You don’t just keep someone around who’s hurting you. Not on the off chance he’ll be some kind of help.”

  “He hasn’t hurt me,” Brianna said in a soft voice. “I’m not okay with what he’s doing, but if it helps us…”

  “He has,” Logan said. Everyone, even Brianna, looked at him. “The first time he sent you a vision. Before the fight with Morgan and every time since, Brianna. He is hurting you.”

  Recognition sparked in Emily first, the memory of Brianna being knocked to the floor in what was nearly a seizure, and then nothing as she lay there, lifeless. And again, when he’d shown her the shadows coming, the vision that had saved them only days ago.

  Brianna wanted to argue, to say maybe that was the only way, but doubt flickered at the impulse, because she had a memory of the look that had crossed over the shadow’s face when she’d said he was hurting her.

  “Okay,” she finally agreed. Her eyes came back to Emily. “You can burn him. But don’t do it until I can see, until I know for sure you’ll be safe.”

  “Why can’t you see them, Bri?” Emily replied. “You can see me, you can see my future. Why are the others out of range?”

  It was another accusation, but Brianna didn’t have the answer. None of it was making sense, and she still hadn’t shaken the cold spike of fear at finding he had a way to reach her, to touch her even now. It was worse, so much worse than the invasion of her mind. This was a part of her; her power was a physical thing.

  Aern glanced at the floor, running a hand over his neck. She knew he was picking up on her emotion, how keenly she was feeling the dread, the revulsion, the uncontrollable pull to this other shadow. She knew he felt like it was an invasion of his own.

  “She’s right,” Logan said. “What’s so different about them, what’s keeping you from finding only their future?”

  Brianna was silent as she concentrated on the fog, not for the first time. She’d felt as if something was there, some obvious thing she was missing. Before she’d found her connections to the power, she’d been missing a lot of things. But this was different. This was a blur that covered only one part of her ability, and she
couldn’t figure out why.

  They would have to work on it from a different direction, find some other connection to lead her there. Like the clues, when Logan had helped her discover the hints her mother had left them.

  “He’s a dragon,” Brianna said. “So what do we know about those abilities?”

  All eyes in the room suddenly on him, Aern didn’t appear to like the direction the conversation was taking. That this threat, this thing that wanted to hurt Brianna and Emily was somehow related to his line, his power. He cleared his throat. “Aside from the sway, I can sense intent, moods, and the occasional random impression, though it seems to be sharper with certain people. I can communicate those same senses to Emily through the bond, and my awareness of her is more acute than with anyone else.”

  “But he doesn’t hurt me,” Emily said, though it held less heat than her previous arguments. “It isn’t taking anything from me.”

  “Intent, maybe?” Logan asked.

  His eyes were on Aern, but Brianna answered. “I don’t disagree with any of you. I know this man doesn’t care if it’s taking more than just energy from me. But we still don’t know his purpose. No matter what you think of what he’s doing, we have to consider his goal, that it’s kept us alive.”

  Emily shook her head at her sister’s persistence. “Fine, we’re alive. But what else, Brianna?” She pressed her palms against the back of the chair sitting opposite of Brianna. “Why is he keeping us alive?”

  The silence of her request was broken by a knock on the closed door. “Come in, Wesley,” Aern said, not moving to greet the boy, but looking up to gesture him on.

  He was a bit timid, but out of breath, as if he’d run the entire way to the office suites only to lose his nerve once he’d seen them all together. Arguing.